The Good Man
by NCCJFAN
Summary: Post Jump,Push, Fall. How the issue could possibly resolve itself...comes from an idea from my friend RobandChrisMom and the Coffeeroom Board.
1. If You Love Someone, Set Them Free

**Chapter One**

**If You Love Someone, Set Them Free….**

**Chapter One**

Dr. Howard Stiles got off the elevator on floor nine with a spring in his step and a certain amount of trepidation in his heart. It was time for _her_ yearly psych exam.

_Her_.

Yes. It was time for Jordan Cavanaugh's yearly psych exam. She had always been one of his most challenging patients – one of the hardest to get to open up and talk to him, yet the one morgue employee who needed it most. Not that she was unstable…not that anything was wrong with her. Jordan just needed to talk…about everything in her life that had happened to her…her mother's murder, her stormy relationship with her father…her lackluster love life and her seeming indifference to it.

Yet she would rather remain mum as a clam than share her thoughts with anyone…including a state psychiatrist who was bound by confidentiality laws.

He would tease, he would cajole, but the chances of dragging anything out of her would probably be diddley over squat. And he was more than aware of that as he turned the corner to go to her office, only to find…it was empty. He peeked in trace…checked all three autopsy rooms…she wasn't there. Chances are, she remembered what today was and was hiding, somewhere….anywhere in the building. He just hoped it wasn't the roof. The psychiatrist was just a little afraid of heights.

Finally he popped his head in Garret's office. "Dr. Macy…."

"Howard." Garret frowned. "It's not time for our yearly talk."

"No, it's not. But it's gratifying to know that you set your calendar by it. Truly it is. I'm looking for Dr. Cavanaugh."

"Jordan?"

"The one and only. It's time for _her_ exam."

"Ah. Well, that explains it."

"It does?"

"She called in sick this morning…said she had the flu."

"Uh-huh. The flu, eh?"

Garret nodded. "And if it's any consolation, I don't think she remembered it was time for her annual 'talk'. She really sounded sick. And I think this was the one year she was really sort of looking forward to talking to you."

"You don't say?"

"Yeah…there's a lot going on in her head right now after what happened with Detective Hoyt….I think she needs an impartial third party to talk to…and she's kind of looking for that person to be you."

"You don't say?" Howard repeated again, not quite sure what to make of Jordan's sudden seemingly cooperative behavior.

"No, I do say…but I don't know when she'll be back."

"That's okay, Garret. This is one doctor who still makes house calls."

And with that Dr. Stiles made his way back to the elevator and then to Jordan's apartment. Fifteen minutes later, he was knocking on her red door. He saw her look through the peep hole and then cautiously open the door a crack. "Howard?" she croaked out.

"Can I come in?"

"I have the 'flu…."

"I've had the shot."

"Then, sure…but if you get sick, don't blame me." She pushed the door open a little wider and let Dr. Stiles in. He made a mental note of the vaporizer and box of tissues on her coffee table, as well as the comforter and pillow on her couch where she had obviously been resting. He took the chair across from her sick bed as she clicked the TV off. "So what brings you here, Howard?" she asked.

"It's time for our annual talk…and Garret said you called in sick…"

"And you're here to see if it's a legitimate excuse or if I'm playing hard to get again?" she questioned with a smirk on her face before a fit of coughing took over.

"No…Garret said you were sick. I just decided to stop by and see if you felt like talking…or if you _needed_ to talk about anything." He put a subtle emphasis on _needed_.

Jordan regarded him for a moment. She did need to talk. The burden of carrying around what Woody had told her in his hospital room before he kicked her out still rattled around her head and broke her heart every night. She knew it was time for her exam and was hoping that however much she may hate Howard Stiles at times, that he would be the one that would help her put her life, Woody, and their relationship in perspective. Unbreak her heart. Help her move on.

"Yeah…well…I do…but I'm under the influence of Theraflu. So I'm can't be held accountable for anything I say. If you repeat it, I'll deny saying it."

Howard nodded.

"But because I am drugged, I'm probably going to be more talkative than usual."

"Not necessarily a bad thing, Jordan."

She sighed and sat cross-legged on the couch. "You remember what you asked me after I came to you when my apartment was broken into?"

"I told you that you weren't your mother…"

"You also asked me how my dating life was going…if I ever thought about getting married, having children…you told me to leave a door open to let myself out."

He nodded again. "And…"

"I took your advice. I let myself out and admitted to myself that I was in love…it took a while…but I did."

"That's good, Jordan. Wonderful…who's the lucky man?"

Jordan held up a hand to stop him in mid-congratulatory sphell. "It didn't work."

"You mean you chickened out of telling the man?"

"No. I told him."

"And?"

"He told me to…and I'm quoting here, 'Screw my pity', and 'Get out now'."

"I am not following you, Jordan."

"You remember Detective Hoyt?"

"He was the detective that was shot and nearly killed by the sniper last year….Is he the one?"

Jordan nodded miserably and relayed the story behind the sniper…the friendship ring…her initial rejection of it, only to change her mind. But when she tried to approach him again about it, he had played the friendship card. "It was then I realized I loved him…and I had to watch him move on…with women I knew, while I was stuck right where I was at. And then, when he was shot and I was so frightened I was going to lose him, I told him how I felt. I was thinking that it might give him the will to fight…or if…if…the worse happened, he would go knowing my heart. Instead, Woody thought that the reason I told him I loved him was because I felt sorry for him...and he kicked me out of his life, Howard. And I can't deal. For once in my life, I don't know what to do…I want to go on with my future, but if it doesn't include him…I'm not sure I want to. I'm just kind of existing…day by day…What am I supposed to do?"

"You love him very much don't you?"

"I do. I really do. But I waited too long to tell him. Just like with everything else in my life, I've screwed this up, too. I didn't tell him soon enough…and he had put up with my hesitation too long. He thought I was rejecting him…I just had to be sure of my feelings."

"Have you told him all of this?"

"No." Her chin lowered to her chest and Howard could have sworn he saw tears in Jordan's eyes. "He won't talk to me….he hasn't worked with me….he's been on desk duty…"

"So when was the last time you saw him?"

"Not since…the day he kicked me out of his life."

Howard was quiet for a moment, studying her face. "You know the story about letting go, don't you Jordan?"

She gave him a puzzled look. "I don't think so…."

"If you love someone, let them go. If they come back to you, they were yours from the beginning. If they don't, they never were yours to begin with."

Jordan snorted and then sneezed…several times. Howard handed her a tissue. "The problem is, Howard, is that I didn't let Woody go. I drove him off. And he's not going to return. I've got to learn to let him go."

Still regarding her carefully, Howard said, "That might be the healthiest thing for you to do, Jordan. Let him go. Move on with your life. After all, you're not getting any younger…"

Jordan glared at him. Howard chuckled in response, letting her know he was joking. She finally laughed along with him. "I know…I know…" she said, but then adding softly, "I'm just not sure my heart will ever recover."

"Scar tissue can be pretty tough, Jordan. I know you don't feel like it now, but everything will work out. Your broken heart will heal." She gave him a doubtful look. "It will…besides, I remember the way Woody used to look at you. He'll be back, Jordan. I'd bet money on it."

"Have you seen him since the shooting?"

"No…no, I haven't."

Jordan drew a shaky breath. "Then you have no idea how angry he was when he told me to go screw my pity…and to get out of his life. He was furious. I didn't have to set him free, Howard. He set me free. The problem is, I don't want to be free. I want back in the cage….but Woody slammed the door shut and locked it. He's not letting me back in.


	2. The Good Detective

**I forgot to disclaim you in chapter one. So here it is:**

**All of the toys belong to Tim Kring. Not me. **

**And thanks, RobandChrisMom, for the idea and inspiration. It's been a long time coming, but I hope I do your idea proud.**

**Chapter Two**

**The Good Detective**

"Come on Woods, give me just a minute of your precious time…"

"Nothing doing, Calvin. I told you when I kicked you out of my apartment that it was over…our relationship as brothers had ended. You may be the baby, but I didn't owe you anymore. You are grown man and are, or at least should be, responsible for your own actions. I'm not bailing you out of whatever trouble you're in now," Woody replied firmly to his brother, all the time walking quickly down the hall of the precinct to get away from Cal. The truth was that his brother's presence unnerved him…especially at the police station where the cell phone with his brother's number in it was still in the evidence locker. One quick check of the area codes would place that call as a Kewuanne, Wisconsin number. And any detective with half a brain could quickly find out who the call was to and determine that Cal was Woody's brother.

And that Woody may have deliberately buried evidence against Calvin.

While he didn't bury it, he certainly did nothing to reveal the source. And to have covered for a mole in the Albanian mob would force Woody to kiss his budding police career good-bye.

"But I am…" Cal replied, rushing to catch up with Woody.

"Am what? In trouble again?"

"No. Trying to take responsibility for my actions. I'm back in that twelve-step program and the fourth step is making restitution…and while I can never repay you for everything you've done…"

"You damn well said that right," Woody interrupted, stopping at his office door and taking out his keys.

"I am trying to tell you that I'm sorry….and that I'd like for us to be brothers again."

Woody paused before turning the door knob to go into his office and begin another day's round of paperwork. If he received a clean bill of health from the doctor this afternoon, hopefully this part of his job would be over with for a while and he could go back to being a normal detective with a badge, a gun, a car, and a back log of cases.

But ready to restore a relationship with his brother? He didn't think so. If he came out of the sniper attack with anything, it was with two sharp realizations. The first is that he would never again take for granted the sheer joy of walking on his own two legs again.

The second one was an equally sharp skepticism of anything anyone told him. Especially Calvin Hoyt or Jordan Cavanaugh. As far as Woody was concerned, both of those charlatans were out of his life for good. He may have to see them occasionally, but that didn't mean he had to have deep, trusting relationships with either.

And he didn't intend to.

"No," he replied, once again in a firm tone of voice that told Cal he meant business. He went into his office and began to shut the door only to find his brother's foot solidly wedged between the door jam and the door, stopping him from shutting it completely.

"Why?" Cal asked. He had always been stronger than Woody and now with Woody still recovering from the shooting, Calvin used his strength to his advantage.

"Because Calvin. I'm tired of being used. By you…and other people. I don't have 'welcome' written across my forehead or my ass."

"By other people, you mean Jordan."

Woody nodded. "You and her…you're both out of my life now. If I let either or both of you back in, it will be when and if I'm ready. And that time's not now. So please…get out…now," he said, echoing the words he had told Jordan months ago.

Cal sighed. "Okay, Woods. I can't make you let me have a place in your life again…and I can't say I blame you that you don't believe me when I tell you I've changed and I am really, truly sorry for what happened with Albie and the mob…and how much I regret putting the people you love in jeopardy. Especially Jordan."

"Then you'll understand that I really don't believe you when you tell me you've changed?"

"I do."

"Good. Now please go."

Cal took a piece of paper from his jeans pocket and slammed it in Woody's hand. "I will…but I'm going to be in Boston for a few days. I'd really like to get together with you and at least…just talk. Over burgers or something. My treat. Then I'll get out of your life for good. And I won't contact you again…I'll wait for you to call me when you're ready to be brothers once more…or you need me. That slip of paper has my new cell phone number on it. And my phone is on my hip unless I'm asleep or in the shower."

Woody glanced down at the number, folded the piece of paper and dropped it in his coat pocket. "I don't think so, Cal. I'm trying to move on with my life…and this time it's a life without you or Jordan in it. I appreciate your efforts…but ….no."

Cal nodded, removed his foot from the door and turned to go. "Okay, Woods. I hear you loud and clear. And respect what you're saying. But now I need to go to the morgue and apologize to Jordan…for putting her in danger."

Woody's head snapped up quickly. "She's not at work."

Cal looked at his brother in disbelief. "You're lying. You just don't want me to talk to your girl."

"She's not my girl. She never was and never will be – I don't want her to be. But she's not in her office. She's out with the flu."

"Then for a guy that is moving on with his life without that beautiful woman in it, you sure are keeping close tabs on her."

* * *

Walking down the sidewalk with his hands thrust deep in his jeans pocket, Calvin began to sort out his thoughts after talking to Woody. Woody – the older brother…the ever-responsible one. Only it seemed that Woody was tired of that role. The only person Woody wanted to be responsible for now was himself.

Woody had pushed Jordan out of his life. Cal wondered what could have happened to make his brother reach the conclusion that Jordan was no longer the girl he wanted or needed. Cal would bet any money it had something to do with Woody's injuries after the sniper attack. Jordan had called Cal about the shooting, but at that time, he was deep in the throes of the first step of the twelve step narcotics anonymous program and couldn't be reached. She had left a message. By the time he could get the information, whatever had happened between Woody and Jordan must have already gone down. When he called the hospital to check on his brother, after the nurse gave him a run down of Woody's physical condition, she gave him a detailed account of his emotional status, which had been far shakier than his unwilling legs.

Woody didn't have many visitors, except for his fellow detectives and police officers. And he seemed content to be alone. There had been a pretty brunette that had sat by his beside for hours at first, but then she left his room in tears one day and didn't return. With this information, Cal had taken it that it was probably better that Woody not have any visitors he didn't want to see. Not that he could have left his rehab center to come to Boston anyway.

He got in his cheap rent-a-car and made his way back to the equally cheap hotel he was staying at. He'd be in these luxurious accommodations for five days and four more nights. Maybe Woody would change his mind about seeing him during that time. Maybe…Woody would decide he at least needed his brother a little.

* * *

Woody sat down heavily in his desk chair, staring at the slip of paper Cal had given him. He could feel a headache building…pure tension. He shook his head to clear it a little as he tried to make some sense of what just happened.

Cal was back in Boston.

Cal wanted to make restitution.

Cal tried to apologize.

Cal wanted to be brothers again.

Woody pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. Just the time he thought he had finally put his relationships in perspective and had begun moving on with his life, all these skeletons kept rattling around trying to escape their respective closets. He knew that if the doctor said he was now fit to be back on the streets and could kiss desk duty good bye, he would have to face Jordan at some point. The morgue community was too small for him not to and he couldn't afford to refuse a call just because she was the answering ME. He was preparing himself for that.

But Cal? That was a monkey wrench in his plans…a fly in his ointment…a problem he had not anticipated on dealing with for a while. He groaned in pure irritation. Cal was right in one perspective. They were brothers. The only closely related blood-kin Woody had.

He wasn't ready to talk to Cal now. He wanted to wait and make sure his brother had really changed…that Cal wasn't out to fool him yet one more time. Maybe next summer…after enough time and enough dust had settled that Woody had a better grip on his emotions. This would also let him know if Cal was serious and that he had really changed. Woody deliberately pulled out his personal cell phone and programmed Cal's number in it before discarding the slip of paper in the trash can. The one thing Woody didn't need more of in his life was paper. He had processed hundreds of miles of it during his confinement of desk duty.

And hopefully, this afternoon the doctor would unshackle him from it and allow him to be what he really was – a good detective.


	3. Boom

**Chapter Three**

**Boom**

It finally happened. The same afternoon that the doctor had released him from desk duty…he had a homicide call and the answering ME would have to be Jordan. Woody groaned inwardly but told himself the sooner they faced each other, the better. Go ahead and get it over with. After all, it had been nearly a year. Tempers had cooled. Feelings had changed. It couldn't be that bad, could it?

In a word, yes.

It was, by a homicide detective's call, an easy case. Man verses truck. Truck wins. What wasn't easy was looking in those honey-brown eyes that still showed the same measure of hurt as they did all those months ago in his hospital room, even though she quickly tried to mask it by turning away from his intense gaze. "What do we have, Dr. Cavanaugh?" he asked, determined to keep things on a professional level with the woman he once would have sold his soul for to have in his bed.

"A hit and run, it looks like," Jordan replied, keeping her head lowered as she examined the body. If Woody was going to play distant, so was she. There was no reason to hang her heart out there just to be shot down again. And Howard had said to move on, it was the healthiest thing for her.

Howard didn't tell her that moving on was going to hurt like hell.

"Any chance you can tell me the make and model of the vehicle by what you've got there?"

"Not until I get the body back to trace and see if we can get any paint flakes off him…and then have Bug run them against our data bases."

"How long will that take?"

Jordan shrugged. "I'm not sure, Detective. We've already got a back log, since I was out with the flu. Now Nige is sick with it…"

"Can you at least give me a ball park estimate?"

Jordan looked up at him then, slight anger gleaming in her eyes then. "No. I can't. You'll have to take a number and wait just like Seely or Cruz or Santana. They're waiting on their cases, too."

"Jordan. I don't have to tell you this is my first case since I was placed back on active duty today. I need to look good."

"And you'll have the information as soon as I can get to it." She glared at him one more time.

Woody reached down and helped her to her feet, taking her arm and pulling her out of earshot of the other detectives. "You don't have to be so damn difficult."

"I'm being difficult? Who died and suddenly left you in charge of_ my_ schedule? Don't think that just because you're back on active duty that I'm going to start putting your cases ahead of everyone else's like…" she stopped and swallowed hard.

"Like you used to? No. I don't expect that. Just don't be so bitchy. What's the matter? Your time of the month?"

"That's none of your business," she hissed. "And totally uncalled for. If you're questioning our backlog, call Bug. He'll set you straight."

Woody looked in her eyes for a moment. "Okay. I'm going to check with the black and whites and see if someone…anyone…got at least a partial license plate number. Meanwhile, take our guy back to the morgue. And get to him as soon as possible."

"Will do….Detective." Jordan pulled away from him and stormed off, telling the morgue van drivers to load the body and meet her at the crypt.

Woody stopped and ran a shaky hand down his face. Feeling drained, he made his way over to his car and got in. This call with her had been disastrous. And they were both to blame. Emotions were still raw and they both had reacted badly. Maybe he had seriously underestimated the extent of her feelings. Maybe he had seriously underestimated both of their feelings, he mused when a sudden rap on his window brought him back to the present. He rolled the window down. "What is it now, Jordan?"

"It's Dr. Cavanaugh. I talked with Bug. We can work your victim in first thing tomorrow morning. That's when I'm back in trace. I'm working a double tonight, so just to get your boxers out of a wad, if you have another call tonight, I'm the answering ME. And welcome back….Detective Hoyt."

* * *

Jordan took the long way back to the morgue. As a matter of fact, Bug had told her to take her time. He had recognized that waver in her voice when she had called in and told him that Woody had requested they expedite trace on his victim. "Stop and get you a Starbucks or something," he said. "You're pulling a double. Take one of your breaks now and get yourself together."

She had gratefully accepted, glad that her co-workers realized just how difficult it was for her to work through this heartbreak. Silent tears rolled down her cheeks as she remembered their argument…and compared it to how it used to be between them…and how much she missed Woody and still loved him.

_Howard said to let him go…and move on, _she thought as she sipped her coffee. _That's the best thing to do…the healthiest thing to do. I've got to do it. I have to. I guess it was just hard seeing him for the first time after nearly a year. I don't know what I was expecting, but certainly not a fight. And not his cold, kick-ass-and-take-names attitude, either. I'll be better prepared for him next time. Next time he won't hurt me…_

Swallowing the rest of her coffee, she shot the cup in the trashcan and drove back to the morgue. She may still love him, but it was obvious he was well over her and had moved on with his life. He had his legs back…he had his old job back…he didn't want her back. Well, however much she still cared, she would have to move on herself. Resolutely, she decided to pull her little, black book out and dust it off as soon as she got off work. Surely there was someone in there that would still be interested in going out with her.

And surely she could move on, too. She took the elevator back up to her office with a little more spring in her step.

"That must have been good coffee," Bug remarked, noting the change from her despondent attitude on the phone to one with a more positive outlook.

"You know, Bug, I've been thinking…."

"And it's always dangerous when you do," he grinned back.

"No, seriously. Have you ever done an autopsy and declared that the death was the result of a broken heart?"

Bug paused a moment, not sure exactly where his co-worker was going with this. He and Jordan had been through a lot together and it had bothered him greatly to see her suffering over the loss of Woody in her life. "No…" he answered cautiously.

"Neither have I. I'll get over this thing I had with Woody. I'll move on…I'll find someone else. Right?"

Bug smiled. Maybe Jordan had seen the light. "Right," he told her. "And if you're interested, I know someone I think would be good for you to meet. Nothing may become of it, but he's an oncologist at Boston General."

"Set it up. I'm open to suggestions," she began when she was interrupted by her radio going off. She grimaced as she answered the call. It was Woody. Someone had called in a possible homicide of an entire family in a house just off Lee Street.

"I need you at the site ASAP." She couldn't tell if his radio signal was breaking up or he was intentionally barking the order into his Nextel.

"Speak of the devil," Bug muttered under his breath. "Want me to take it instead?"

"Nope. I'm good. I'm getting over him. And this is a good way to put my new attitude into play."

"Go get 'em, Tiger," Bug replied, giving her a thumbs up and a slap on the back before she sprinted down the hall.

* * *

Cal had been tailing Woody all afternoon. As soon as his brother had left his office at lunch to go to the doctor, Cal had been on him. It helped that Woody didn't know what kind of rent-a-wreck he was driving, but Cal couldn't believe that Woody hadn't spotted him. The only excuse Cal could think of was that Woody was concentrating so hard on his job now that he was off desk duty that he wasn't paying attention.

He had seen the interaction between Jordan and his brother at the hit and run scene. Jordan had looked crushed and then incredibly angry. Woody had just looked pissed the whole time. He pitied both of them if things kept up this way. Idly he wondered just how long they could work together before one of them threw in the towel and requested a transfer. And both of them were so damn stubborn that he couldn't foresee which one would give up first.

Cal sighed. He needed to talk to Woody one more time…try to get his attention. If he didn't, Cal was afraid that Woody was going to get so wrapped up in his job now that he was back on active duty that Woody would forget his brother was in town. Cal would have to leave without coming to any resolution or restitution with him or Jordan. Slowly, Cal tailed Woody to the Lee Street location.

He spotted his brother on the steps of the house, supervising the crime scene and waiting on the ME, which Cal assumed would be Jordan again. He inwardly shuddered to think what would happen between the two this time. Cautiously, he approached his brother. "Woods?"

"Calvin. What are you doing here? And how did you know where I…never mind I don't want to know."

"So what's up here, Woody? Seems a little too suburbia for a mass murder or anything…"

And before Woody could stop himself, he fell into the role of big brother, explaining how things worked to little brother. "That's where you're wrong. A neighbor called in and said he hadn't seen this family for a few days…the cars didn't leave the drive way…wanted us to check on them. A black and white answered the call…and found the entire family deceased."

"Wow…guess that just goes to show that appearances can be deceiving and you never know what's going on with your neighbors that they're not sharing with you at the block parties."

Woody grinned. This was going to be his first big case since being back on active duty…he could feel it. Now if a certain ME didn't mess him up, he might just regain the ground he lost since being confined to a desk. The thought of making good to his lieutenant made him feel a little more generous towards Cal. "I guess so."

Cal took Woody's smile as a good omen. He decided to press his luck. "Are you going in?"

"Yeah. The scene is secure. I'm sending the black and whites away. It'll just be me and the other two detectives until Jordan decides to show up."

"Mind if I go in with you?"

Woody threw him a cautious look. "Just don't touch _anything_." He lifted the yellow crime scene tape for Cal to walk under. Woody pushed open the door to the house and told the uniform officers they could leave now…and so could the crime scene photographer when he was done. "The ME is on her way…she'll take it from there…." The officers filed out and were soon gone. Cal followed his brother around the crime scene, careful to obey orders and not touch anything.

But something had caught Cal's attention…an annoying smell he kept trying to place. Finally, it rang a bell. "Say, Woods, do you smell gas?"

Before Woody could open his mouth, the house went up with a boom and was engulfed in flames.


	4. He's a Good Man

**Chapter Four**

**He's a Good Man**

"Oh Jesus," Jordan breathed as she got out of her truck. She had heard the resounding boom and saw the flames as she pulled up. Running towards the house, she punched the panic button on her Nextel and threw it on the ground. Glancing around, she couldn't see Woody anywhere.

That's when it hit her.

He was in the house.

Woody was in the burning house…trapped…or hurt…or worse. Whatever her attitude towards him had been, it disappeared as she realized that once again she could lose him. She ran up the steps to the house, took off her jacket, and tried to beat back the flames to find him. There was one figure near her…it looked sort of like Woody. Putting her arms underneath his, she dragged him out of door, down the steps, and onto the grass. "My God…Cal…" she said to the unconscious figure.

Not stopping to try to even speculate what Woody's brother was doing in the burning house, she ran back up the steps to try to find Woody…he couldn't be far from Cal…the smoke and flames were doing a number on her…a sudden pain in her right arm let her know that the flames had made contact with her skin. Swearing and praying under her breath, she dropped to the floor and began to crawl around, trying to find him. _What will I do if I lose him…he can't leave me…even if our relationship isn't what it was…Woody…you can't die on me…not you … not now. Not while I still love you..._

Finally, she felt a leg underneath her hand. Trailing her hand up a hard thigh to a face, she felt the spiky hair. Woody. Setting her teeth with determination, she locked her arms underneath his just like she had done with Cal's and began to pull him out the door, coughing against the smoke…this time flames making contact with her left arm as she half carried, half dragged him out, collapsing with him and rolling down the steps.

She would never remember how she got him out to a safe place on the lawn. She just heard sirens and saw firemen before she collapsed herself. The next thing she recalled was Garret bending over her, gently bringing her back to consciousness. "Come back to me, Jordan," he said softly, holding an ammonia capsule under her nose. "Come on….wake up."

"Garret…what happened?"

"Seems there was a natural gas leak at the scene…and the house went up. You got here right after it happened and pulled Woody and his brother out…How little you did that, I'll never know. I've always heard pure adrenalin is a rush….now I know it's true." He looked at her closely. "Are you hurt?"

"I think I burned my arms a little."

Garret examined them carefully. "More than a little. I need to get you to the hospital. Can you walk?" He tried to help her to her feet, but her right leg wouldn't cooperate. She collapsed again.

"It hurts, Gar. I think I might have broken it."

"Hang on, I'll get an EMT."

Jordan glanced around and saw that they were working with Woody and Cal. In her quest to know what happened, she had just assumed Woody and his brother were okay…that she had gotten them out in time. "Woody…is he okay?"

"He's fine…unconscious, but he's going to be just peachy. So is Cal. You deserve a medal or a kick in the ass for being so stupid as to run into a burning building. I haven't decided which I'm going to recommend."

Jordan swallowed hard and leaned against him. "Don't recommend either. Just get me to a hospital."

"Which one do you want to go to?"

"Which ever one they're not taking the Hoyt brothers to."

Garret nodded and gently helped her up on her good leg. "That's it…lean on me…I'll take you to St. Katherine's. I think the EMT's are taking to Woody and Cal to Boston General."

* * *

The doctor had told her several times that day that she could go in and see him … that it wouldn't hurt anything. And Jordan had tried, several times. But each time she tried, she chickened out.

_He wouldn't though,_ Jordan thought, _he'd bust right through the doors of my hospital room and take over…regardless of what I thought or what I wanted. So why can't I do the same?_

_Because of what he told you the last time he was in the hospital_, the little voice in the back of her head said. _'Get out. Now.' Does any of that sound vaguely familiar? _

Jordan had to admit it did. And it remained incredibly painful to recall the fact that Woody had ordered her out of his hospital room and his life. The metallic taste in her mouth made her realize the memory still hurt enough to make her bite her lip so hard that the blood ran. And that spurred her enough to tentatively knock on the door to his room. _Nothing ventured, nothing gained_, she thought, as she held her breath.

"Come on in, honey. Have you been sitting out there the whole time?" asked Woody's nurse, Tracey.

"Just…for a little while." Jordan called the hospital and talked to Tracey for the past two days to check on Woody when she was still at St. Katherine's. This was her first actual trip to his room.

"Why didn't you come in?"

"The doctor said he might be waking up soon and I didn't want to upset him."

"Upset him? Why should you coming in and seeing him upset him?"

"We…we…haven't exactly been on the best of terms lately…"

"But you were on good enough terms to save his life…"

Jordan cleared her throat and looked down at her feet. "I … well, let's just say I repaid a longstanding debt…" And she felt like she had. Jordan had thought about what she had done during her overnight stay at St. Katherine's after getting her leg set. She finally decided that by pulling Woody's ass out of that burning building she had repaid him at last for all the times he had pulled her ass out of a world of trouble.

But she also realized, that no matter how hard she tried, no matter how healthy it was for her to move on with her life, she couldn't. Not without him in it at least. She loved him. She always would. She longed for a second chance with him, even though she doubted that would ever happen.

Tracey smiled at Jordan and pulled a chair up to the side of Woody's bed. "Come on over here and sit down. I'll get you something to prop your leg up on. Please tell me you didn't drive yourself and that you have someone to take you home."

"Yeah…I didn't and I do," Jordan replied. Garret had dropped her off and told her to call him when she was through and he'd pick her back up.

* * *

Somewhere in the vague recesses of his mind, Woody began to hear what was going on. His consciousness was slowly regaining ground, although his eyelids refused to cooperate. After a minute of fighting to lift them, he gave up and listened to conversation going on around him.

_Jordan…what is she doing here?_ He couldn't remember why she should be…Cal had pulled him out of the building…he remembered that much. He could still feel the hands yanking him out of there, half dragging him, half pulling and lifting him….but Cal had gotten him out. _So maybe there's that much of a relationship left between my brother and me…_ _he still thinks enough of me to save my life. Maybe we can go back to being brothers…_

"Here, honey…sit down…"

_That must be the nurse…_

Woody then heard a familiar thump and a drag, then another thump and a drag. _She's on crutches….Jordan's on crutches…._Woody knew that sound all too well. After he had been released from the hospital after the sniper shooting, he had been on crutches for nearly four months. _What the hell did she do to herself now and is she going to try to blame this one on me, too?_ He tried to lift his eyelids again. No luck.

He heard her settle down in the chair and felt Tracey continue to take his vitals. "I'll be getting out of your way in just a minute," he heard her tell Jordan.

"You're fine…just make sure he's okay."

"He's okay…but it's all because of you. When are you going to tell him that it was you that pulled him out of that building?"

_Oh, God. Jordan. She pulled me out of that building…not Cal. But how?_ His mind spun._ She's so little…_

He heard her sigh. "I'm… I'm not. It's just better that he doesn't know." Tracey raised her eyebrows. "It really is…he's…he's rather upset with me right now."

"Well, one look at that leg and the burns on your arms and that should make him un-upset with you real quick."

_She got burned? How badly? _He fought his eyelids again. He lost.

Jordan shook her head. "No. He doesn't ever need to know. It's better that he thinks Cal did it … that Cal saved him. See…he and his brother had a …fight and haven't really spoken in a while. If Woody thinks Cal did this, then that will hopefully make them reconcile."

"You're very generous, Jordan. You saved this guy's life and you want to give someone else the credit…especially since it's obvious you care for him…so much."

"No…it's just more important that Cal and Woody reconcile…Their parents are dead and all they have is each other."

Tracey gave Jordan a hard look. "Doesn't this guy know he has you?"

"He knows…" her voice dropped to a whisper, "he just doesn't want me."

"Then the man is a lunatic."

Jordan gave Tracey a small smile. "Thanks …but he has his reasons. Believe me."

Tracey snorted and continued to take Woody's vitals. "Well…he's doing much better."

"How's his spine and legs…any damage?"

"No…no trauma to either of those. Just a concussion and not a very bad one at that. He's going to be fine and should wake up soon."

"Then I need to go. If he wakes up and finds me here…he won't be happy."

_That's putting it mildly._ _You should go, Jordan…it would be better for both of us._

"Okay…my work here is done…at least for the moment. I'll leave you two alone," Tracey said. "You take care, honey." Woody heard the rustle of her uniform and the soft swish of the door opening.

"I will…I probably won't be seeing you again….if he's going to wake up soon, I need to leave. So thanks for everything you've done for him." Woody heard Jordan stand and felt her sit on the side of his bed. Then ever so gently she took his hand. "Take care of him for me, please, Tracey? He's a good man…a really good man."

"I will…and I'll call you if anything changes."

"Okay….and thanks again."

"No problem." Woody heard the door swish close and then click shut. It was just him and Jordan.

_Please, just go, Jordan. Please. Don't make this any harder than it has to be..._

Instead, she continued to hold his hand with one of hers and while the other tenderly brushed his hair off his forehead. "Woody…" he heard her softly whisper. "I am so sorry this happened to you…I tried…I really tried to get you out of the house before you got hurt…but of course, as far as we're concerned, I was late and a half-step off, as usual."

_You got my ass out before the building burnt down…what more could I ask for? A little bump on the head is nothing. And please, don't stop running your fingers through my hair…you have no idea how good it feels…and how I've always wanted you to do it…Why didn't you do this before—when we were still trying to work things out?_

As if she could read his thoughts, she continued to muss with the ends of his hair. "I am so sorry…you've spent far too much time in hospitals lately and then to have to be back in here again…it's just not fair." She moved her fingers from his hair to the side of his face and gently stroked it with her thumb.

_Oh Jesus, that feels good, too. _Woody felt her weight shift. For a moment he thought she was getting up and tried to tighten his hold on her hand. His body still wasn't responding to the signals his brain was throwing out.

But she didn't get up. She just moved a little closer. "I miss you, Woody. I … I miss having you in my life…at any level. I'm sorry I've been so hard to get along with…I just was …am still hurt. Hell, right now, I'd settle for only being your acquaintance…but I understand and respect how you feel. I do want you to know that what I have right here," she lifted his hand and put it over her heart, "is still yours. I'm trying to move on, but it's not working very well. Maybe it will one day." She gently laid his hand back down on the bed. And to his surprise, he felt her lean down and kiss his forehead. "You are a good man, Woody. I do miss you…very much." He felt her lips move to his as she lightly kissed him…"I still love you," she whispered. He felt something warm and wet hit his face.

_Tears? For me? Oh, Jesus... Jordan...Why?_

"Good-bye, Farm Boy," she said against his lips.

He felt her weight shift completely off the bed this time and heard her take her crutches. A few familiar thumps later, the door opened and then shut.

_Wait….don't leave me. Please…_She said good-bye, not good night. That sounded awfully final.

And it scared the hell out of him.


	5. Us?

**Chapter Five**

**Us?**

Unconsciousness is a funny thing. As the mind sort of comes and goes and with it, reality and time stand still. When Woody was finally able to lift his reluctant eyelids, he wasn't sure if it had been fifteen seconds, fifteen minutes, or fifteen days since Jordan had been in his room.

He was hoping for the seconds – he might be able to catch her before she left the hospital. Her whispered words still buzzed in his ear and twisted his heart. She still loved him…despite everything he had done and said to her, she still loved him. Her warm, wet tears were now long gone from his face, but he could still feel them on his skin.

Urgently he felt around the bed until he found the nurses' call button. Ringing it twice, he lay back and waited until Tracey came in his room. When she saw he was finally awake, she took his vitals one more time. "When did you finally decide to wake up?" she asked.

"A minute ago. When can I get out of here?"

"You've been unconscious for several days, Detective. The doctor will have to give you a look over before he releases you."

"How soon can that happen?"

Tracey looked at Woody with an amused smile on her face. "He'll be in after lunch. What's the hurry?"

"The girl that was in here earlier…"

"Which one?"

_Dear God, there's been more than one? Who?_ His frantic mind raced. "She's petite…brown hair, brown eyes…crutches."

"Ah…you knew Jordan was here?"

"I overheard your conversation…."

Tracey gave him a meaningful look. "Then you know she saved your life."

Woody nodded. "How long ago was that?"

"Jordan was in day before yesterday."

Woody nodded. He had to get out of the hospital and get to her as quickly as possible. When Jordan had told him good-bye, his first fear was that she would run…move from Boston back to LA, or Atlanta, or New York…or one of the other half-a-dozen places she had lived before.

And he was deathly afraid that after the doctor released him, he would go back to her apartment and find it empty…and her completely out of his life forever. A cold sweat broke out on his brow. "Call the doctor and tell him to come now. I have to get out of here…I have to stop her before…before…"

"Before what?" Tracey asked, her eyes alight with curiosity.

"Before…before she leaves."

* * *

"What happened to you?" Woody asked, trying to act casual as he leaned against her office doorway, a stack of reports in his hand – ruses, actually – to give him admittance into her office. 

He didn't think he had ever seen a more gratifying site, or had ever seen her look lovelier. When he had been released from the hospital, he called Garret, who confirmed what Tracey had told him. Jordan had pulled both Woody and Cal out of the burning house. Garret also agreed with Tracey…Jordan didn't want either brother to know what she did…she wanted the event to be used to help reconcile the two men. She knew all too well what it was like to only have one close living relative…and the pain you felt when that person walked out of your life.

But she didn't leave, like he feared she would do. She stayed in Boston. She returned to work a few days after Woody did…her arms in bandages, her right leg in a cast, maneuvering on crutches. . He had waited…that's when he thought it would be the best time to approach her – when she was back at work So armed with the ruse reports he supposedly needed clarification on, he had come to her office.

"Me?" her startled answer made him pause as he remembered that Jordan had no idea that he had heard hers and Tracey's conversation and her subsequent confession.

"Yeah, you…there's no one else in the room," he replied, amusement in his eyes and a soft smile on his face.

More confused and startled looks from Jordan. Woody had hardly been civil to her over the past months. Cold and distant were the two adjectives she would have used to best describe him. And now here he was standing in her office, acting like they were…well…_friends_ again.

Then panic hit her. She couldn't tell him the truth. She couldn't tell him what she did…or how she got hurt. If her old El Camino hadn't been sitting in her usual parking space, she would have told him she had been in a car accident. The long sleeves of her shirt hid the bandages over the burns on her arms. Her leg injury was the only visible thing wrong with her. "I fell…" she answered, "down the steps at my apartment. Carrying some laundry." She hoped her answer didn't sound as lame to him as it did to her. She never had been a good liar.

"Oh. Then that's quite break you've got there…how long will you be in the cast?"

"It's not too bad. With any luck, I'll be out of this and in a soft brace in about six weeks."

"So…meanwhile, you're morgue-bound and chained to paperwork?" His soft smile kicked up into a grin. Jordan felt her good knee give a little. What the hell was wrong with him and why was he acting this way?

Eyeing him over warily, she cautiously replied, "Yeah. No field calls for me for a while…so you don't have to worry about working with me. How's your head?" she asked, quickly changing the subject. "I heard about the explosion and the fire…and Cal getting you out of the house. Quite a hero."

"I'm fine. Just a concussion…lost a few days. Haven't done that since I was in college and drank just a little too much. As for Cal," Woody sighed. "He showed up at my apartment the day the house blew up and said he wanted to make restitution to you and me for his actions with the Albanian Mob. He followed me to Lee Street…and then the next thing I knew, he was getting me out of the house before it came down on me."

"Pretty impressive…Maybe Cal's changed?"

Woody shrugged. "Who knows? Time will tell. He's going to be in the hospital a few more days and then head back to Wisconsin."

Jordan hesitated for a moment. Everything in her wanted to ask the next question, but a little voice in her head told her to be very, very careful. Woody was acting laid back at the moment…and they still had to work through the reports he had tucked under his arm. Did she risk stirring his anger?

She did.

"Then…are you two…talking at least?"

"A little. I still don't trust him, Jordan. And trust is a precious thing, as you well know. However, there is one thing that is bugging me about that crime scene…"

Jordan gave him another confused look. "What?"

"I don't remember anything about it. I don't remember Cal pulling me out…I don't remember anything. And the firemen or EMTs don't remember seeing him pull me out. I'm just going on some rumor someone started…I don't know for sure _who_ really pulled me out." His voice was even, with no tinge of bitterness or anger.

Jordan let out a breath she had unconsciously been holding. "You don't say?" she questioned. "Well…the memory may come back to you with time…"

* * *

Woody's fear that Jordan's good-bye in the hospital would morph into a real good-bye never actualized. After a few weeks, he realized, she wasn't telling her city good-bye. She was telling him. This time, while Jordan didn't push Woody out of her life, she did re-erect those walls she had been so famous for in the past—re-enforced and supported by all the cautiousness she now felt about him. And she didn't make subtlety an issue. 

She avoided working with him, which now was a no-brainer with her being in a cast. She couldn't answer his calls, only assist in processing trace, the autopsy reports, and other assorted forms he needed. And she was quick to have these curried over to his office rather than have him stop by hers. She was even avoiding the awkward small talk that had never been their forte. When they did have to meet face-to-face, she kept it strictly professional, despite Woody's new found warmth and seeming compassion towards her.

The simple fact of the matter was that Jordan was avoiding being hurt again. While she knew her heart…that it was no longer her own and totally belonged to Woody, she also feared what that could do to her. Jordan didn't think she could handle seeing him move on and date other women…perhaps even some people she knew. Her heart would break all over again, and right now, just getting the damn fracture in her leg to heal was taking long enough. If a leg took six to eight weeks to heal, she wasn't sure her heart would ever recover…it hadn't from the first time he broke it. If he did it a second time, she wasn't sure a full recovery would ever be in her future.

And her plan was working well. At least as long as she had the cast on. For six weeks, while her leg healed, her heart adjusted to the fact that her feelings for her Farm Boy, however strong they were, would probably go ignored and unreturned. Unrequited love. It hurt. It made her understand just a little of how Woody probably felt all those times she had pushed him away.

But the moment her cast came off, her carefully structured plan crumpled into a heap at her feet. Garret called her into his office and from his tone of voice, he was all business. When she entered, she saw Woody sitting on the couch, his face expressionless. Suddenly Jordan _knew_…just _knew_ with every instinct in her … she wasn't going to like what was going to happen.

"Sit down, Jordan," Garret said, his tone serious, but his eyes questioning hers. "I need to talk to you about an assignment." She nervously sat down on Garret's couch….on the opposite end from Woody.

"You know Woody has been investigating the house on Lee Street…the one that had the gas leak and blew up?"

Jordan nodded. It had been one of the biggest cases to cross the department in a while. An innocent family murdered and then their house blown to bits. It didn't make sense…it didn't add up.

"Well, it seems that this wasn't the first time such a homicide has happened…"

Jordan raised her eyebrows and her mouth fell open. "When….and where…"

"Maryland, Delaware…Virginia…North Carolina…." Woody answered.

Jordan swallowed hard. "Then it's the work of a serial killer….?"

"Probably. That's everyone's best guess…" Woody replied, watching her carefully. "The issue here is that this time…with the North Carolina murder, the killer screwed up. He targeted a vacation resort on the North Carolina shore line. And the house man and woman he killed this time were none other than Jason and Cheryl Baker." He handed Jordan a file.

Apprehensively, she flipped the file open. "Jason and Cheryl Baker….from…_Boston_?"

Woody nodded. "The sheriff from the Outer Banks of North Carolina called me this morning after the Bakers were identified. He would like for us to come down and assist in the investigation…"

"Us?"

Woody ignored her obvious question. "Yeah…"

"But the crime happened in North Carolina…"

"And we would like for it to stay there because North Carolina has the death penalty. And whoever did it…the son-of-a-bitch needs to feel the heat of the needle. However, North Carolina would like to give us some leeway in the investigation to cover their asses if the case goes south. That we could at least try the perp in Boston and put him away for life without parole if something goes wrong with their case."

Jordan nodded. She understood the reasoning behind the decision. But that brought her back to her original question. "Us?" she asked again.

Garret nodded. "Us. You and Woody. Rene' has personally asked that you and Woody represent the Boston PD and the morgue on this one."

Jordan silently cursed Rene' under her breath. With that being the case…with the DA specifically requesting her, she had no choice…

She had to go home and pack her bags to go to North Carolina.

With Woody.

Alone.


	6. Tacky Hotel Rooms

**Chapter Six.**

**Tacky Hotel Rooms**

**Dedicated to my Coffeeroom Ya yas.**

It wasn't the fact that she had to go out of town that bothered her.

It was the fact that it was with Woody.

Compounded by the fact that they were alone.

And anytime they went out of town all by themselves, mayhem and chaos quickly followed in the wakes of their relationship. The moment the plane left Boston, any walls of reason she had so carefully built collapsed at her feet. It had happened every time they went to LA. It had happened in the desert.

Nervously she thought it could happen again. And with her heart still belonging to him, this time it would be disastrous. The emotional walls she built around her heart to protect it would come crashing down. He could waltz right in, set her up, and hurt her badly if she allowed it.

Well, the practical side of her said, _just don't let it happen._

The emotional side of her…the side of her that was so divided on her feelings promptly countered that this might be the only time….perhaps the last time….she would ever have an opportunity to have him alone and all to herself…this might be her only chance to know what it was like to make love with him…if the opportunity arose. Was she woman enough to risk her heart…to be willing to pick the pieces up later and put them back together…or was she going to continue to play it cautious?

As their plane left Boston soil that chilly morning, she had no idea which one she would chose.

And she still hadn't made up her mind when the plane touched down on the red North Carolina clay.

But if she knew what was about to happen in the Outer Banks, she may have forced the pilot to turn the plan around and return home.

* * *

Mike Evans, the local sheriff, met them at the small airport and brought them to his station to look over the evidence and let Jordan examine the bodies. A North Carolina native, Mike could have easily been misconstrued as one of the "good ol' boys" from the deep South. A giant of a man, with the beginnings of a beer belly, his form belied the tensile strength that was bred from a lifetime of pushing himself hard to get ahead. A football scholarship to North Carolina State bought him the education he so desired.

A blown knee pushed him into law enforcement after he could no longer push himself on the grid iron. After working in Montgomery and Wake counties, he chose to land back on the coast where he had grown up as a boy. He found a pretty, local girl and settled down to raise a family. His life had been mostly quiet. He rarely even had an opportunity to draw his gun…just a word or two from him to even the most rowdy tourist settled down any trouble.

Until the Bakers were found dead in their burnt rental house. A Boston address on their drivers' license meant that Mike had to involve another state in his case. He didn't mind that. What he wondered about was the two people in the back seat of his SUV. They were polite….but too quiet. Barely talking to one another. He had hoped it was a case of jet lag…

But he was an astute man…if he was placing a wager, he'd bet the two had a lover's quarrel. Sighing deeply, he fervently hoped that it would blow over quickly. He wanted to get this over and get them back home. And he dreaded what he would have to tell them later. He pulled into his parking place at the sheriff's office and led Jordan and Woody to the room with the evidence. "Take your time…look it over and tell me what you think. Then I'll take you to the morgue…it's at the local hospital here….and you can look over the bodies, Dr. Cavanaugh." He shut the door to the evidence room and Jordan and Woody began to go over the case piece by piece, comparing it to the house in Boston on Lee Street.

Jordan's face remained calm, her emotions well-hidden behind a mask of carefully crafted stoicism. She still had nightmares about the house blowing up…with Woody in there…and this time she wasn't able to get him out. There were many nights she'd wake up in a cold sweat, shaking with fear…and telling herself it was only a dream did nothing to calm her nerves.

But she didn't want Woody to ever know she was the one who rescued him. Woody and Cal needed to reconcile. She'd give anything if her father would come back home and be with her…she realized first hand the pain that both brothers bore…even if they stubbornly refused to recognize it themselves.

Woody, on the other hand, let his emotions play over his face as the knowledge hit him once again, that if it wasn't for Jordan, he could have been killed. Been trapped in that burning house until nothing was left of him or Cal but a mass of seared bones and flesh. She had risked her life for him…because she loved him.

However, the words he had spoken to her in his hospital room after the shooting…_I don't want your pity…Get out. Now_….they still were ringing in her mind….and he knew it. Thoughtfully, he glanced at her from under his lashes. They were out of town…her defenses would go down again…maybe this time…just maybe….he could not only hold her closer…he could erase those carelessly flung words and replace them with the three, new, little words, _I love you_.

* * *

"You folks ready to go?" Mike asked several hours later, after Jordan had a chance to review the preliminary autopsy reports and make a cursory exam of the bodies.

"Sure," Woody answered, helping Jordan repack the evidence and reports. "We'll be back in tomorrow to finish up, okay?"

"Fine. If you're through, I'll take you to your hotel…"

Woody nodded and helped Jordan to her feet. They were still mostly silent on the drive to the hotel… which was fine with Mike…he needed to do some talking. "I hope you folks like the coast down here in North Carolina. Never been to Boston myself…anything much north of Maryland is a little too cold for my blood…"

"It does get cold there," Jordan said, while looking out the window, noting the lowland marshes and scrubby trees the North Carolina beaches were famous for.

"Yeah…that's what I understand. But with Boston being a port city and all, I guess you see a lot of the beach…"

"Not as much as I would like," Woody responded. "Work…"

Mike grinned at him in the rear view mirror. "Know what you mean…know what you mean…but anyway…tourism is a huge source of our income here this time of year. You know it's the height of tourist season now."

Woody nodded, not quite following where the sheriff was going as he pulled into the parking lot of the hotel.

"The rental houses are all taken. Some folks book them for the entire summer…" Mike continued, getting out of the SUV to help Woody with the luggage.

"Oh," Jordan said. "Must be nice to be able to vacation the entire summer…"

"Yeah, must be," Mike said, leading them up the stairs to their room. Nervously, he handed Woody the room key. "I want you to know I tried to get you a house…or a better hotel…but unless I went over two counties, everything was booked. Now there's only one bed in there, but there is a couch…and I do apologize…"

Woody and Jordan wordlessly looked at each other. It's not like they hadn't been in close quarters together before…and each knew that if the poker game had played out differently, they probably would already be sleeping together and the one bed would just have been a moot point.

But both had folded their cards in that game. It was over and the chips on both sides had been lost. "Well….it's only for one night," Jordan said gamely, not wanting Mike to feel any worse than he obviously already did. And even if the hotel was on the seedy side, surely the sleeper sofa was adequate.

"Good…glad you feel that way. Thanks…. I'll see you tomorrow…Pick you two up about nine?"

"Yeah…that's good," Woody said, loosening his tie…the realization that he and Jordan would be in one hotel room for a night or two just now seeping through his mind and parts of his body that immediately began to give him problems. "Have a good evening, Mike…" Turning to Jordan, he said…"Well…it can't get any worse…." He inserted the key and the door swung open.

The situation immediately grew worse. True to Mike's word…there was one bed in the room.

It was huge.

And heart shaped.

Complete with Magic Fingers Massage option. Insert fifty cents in the slot beside the headboard and the bed would vibrate for twenty minutes.

"I have stepped into the middle of a porn movie," Jordan said, dropping her overnight bag on the tiny couch in the corner.

"Uh…yeah…." Woody stammered back, running his hand down the back of his head. "Jordan…what are we going to do?"

"Do? About this?" She chuckled. "What can we do? Everything's booked. We don't have a car…the couch is barely bigger than a chair. What do you think we're going to have to do?"

"Sl…sleep together?" Woody's voice cracked like a teenager's on the dawn of puberty.

"Yeah, Farm Boy. That's the way it looks. But hey, we're adults, right?"

"Right…"

"You take the left side and I'll take the right side of this…this…heart….thingie. Simple as that. You're just lucky I brought pajamas…."

Woody swallowed hard and grabbed a bucket off the table. "I'm going to go get some ice…"

"Good. Then we'll see what's available for dinner in this five-star establishment."

Jordan laughed under her breath at his sudden exit and the obvious reason for it. Despite the fact that Woody had told her to get out of his life, she still had at least a sexual effect on him…his look of discomfort told her this could be an interesting evening…

If she let it.

Did she want to? She quickly sobered up when she realized that the next morning he could utter the same words to her that he did in the hospital. That after she gave herself to him, he could tell her to leave.

The thought hurt more than she could bear. Grabbing a change of clothes and her body wash, she decided a shower was needed to clear her head and help her think better.

* * *

She was in the shower when he let himself back into the room. He had found a burger joint a half a block a way. They could easily walk to it. He sank down on his side of the bed as he waited for her to finish in the bathroom.

He would be sharing a bed with Jordan Cavanaugh tonight and perhaps tomorrow night also. He may never have this opportunity again…the chance to tell her how wrong he had been and how he felt. Swallowing his pride and screwing up his courage, Woody decided that tonight was the night. It had to be. This chance may never come again.

Only everything about that night went horribly wrong. The minute they set foot in the burger joint, both of their cell phones started ringing. Woody silently cursed technology and blamed the rising number of failed relationships on it. Would they ever catch a break? Could they? Maybe the gods of some sort of twisted fate had conspired against them from the beginning and they would never be together.

Resolutely, he determined to do something about it. When then arrived back at room 204…the room affectionately dubbed by Jordan as the "Porn Fest," he deliberately reached over and took her cell phone off her hip, powered it off, and slung it on the couch.

"What are you doing?" she asked, startled by his action and the fact that he was now doing the same thing to his own phone. "Someone may need to get in touch with us."

"And they can wait. I need to talk to you. I've been trying for days to find the right time, the right place, the right words….and now is as good as time any…."

Nervously Jordan licked her dry lips and sat down on her side of the bed. "What is it? Have I done something wrong?"

"No….no…" Woody replied and sat down heavily on his side. "I have…"

Jordan looked at him, remaining silent, letting him know he could continue but only when he was ready and at a pace he was comfortable with.

"I…I was wrong, Jo."

"Wrong? About what?"

"You. Me. Us."

She looked confused. "I don't understand."

"I should have never said to you what I did in that hospital room after I was shot…"

"It's my fault, Woody. My timing always sucked."

"But I didn't have to react the way I did…"

"You were scared…you didn't know if you would live and if you did, if you would walk again…"

"That's no excuse. I'm sorry, Jordan."

"Apology accepted. Don't let it worry you.." She got up off the bed to go put on her pajamas.

"Does that mean…you meant what you said to me?"

Jordan froze in her tracks. "What I said?"

"Yeah. About me not leaving you…and that you love me."

Slowly Jordan walked around to his side of the bed and sank down beside him. "Ah…that." Woody's jaw tensed…Jordan noticed the muscle twitch in his cheek. "Yeah. I do."

The relief in Wood's face made the change in the atmosphere of the room nearly palpable. He reached out to take her hand, but she pulled away.

"I do love you, Woody. I always will. But I can't live my life thinking that at some point you will push me out of your life again. That hurt – more than you'll ever know. Despite what you may think, I take relationships very seriously now…I may not have when I was younger, but who does when they're in their twenties? When I give my heart and my body to a man again, it will be for keeps…for forever. That's one reason I waited so long to tell you my feelings…I wanted to make sure I could totally commit to our relationship with no second thoughts. Your accident…the shooting…just made me realize quickly that I do love you and if you would have died, they would have buried my heart along with you. When you told me to get out…it broke my heart…it hurt. And while my feelings for you haven't changed, there's no way I ever want to hurt like that again."

A cold fear ran down Woody's spine. She loved him…but was afraid he'd hurt her again…he could try and blame his reaction in the hospital on the meds, but she wouldn't buy it. He knew that. Setting his jaw again, he said, "So…you're saying you still love me, but it's over?" He looked away from her…to stare at the nondescript curtains blowing with the current of the air conditioner unit under the window.

"No." She reached out and gently turned his face to hers again. "I'm saying I don't know…that I have to be sure you'd never hurt me again like that before I'd commit to a relationship with you once more. You hurt me, Woody…and despite the fact that for years I danced around you…trying to be sure of my feelings….I never hurt you like that. I never dated any of your friends…or people you knew. I never dated anyone. I wanted only you…but I also wanted to make sure that I could totally be yours… and only yours…with no second thoughts…no regrets. That when I gave myself to you…when we made love…it would be for keeps…for a lifetime." She gently traced his cheek with her thumb.

He was silent for a moment…so silent he frightened her. Slowly she got up from the bed and retrieved her pajamas, making her way to the bathroom to change. When she returned, he was still sitting on his side of the bed staring at the window. She quietly climbed under the sheets and turned her back to him, curling up in a small ball, in the furthest corner of the damned heart shaped bed she could find.

Woody gazed at her form for a moment, his eyes taking in the feminine curves under the covers, her dark hair spread across the white of the sheets. Idly, he wondered for a moment just where in the hell the hotel found heart shaped sheets for the heart shaped bed…when another realization hit him hard and long.

He loved her. With everything he had, he loved her. And she loved him. To find a way to convince her he would never be so stupid as to tell her to get out of his life again….that he wanted her and only her for the rest of his life…shouldn't be too hard, should it?

He didn't know. But knowing she was lying beside him clad only in her tank top and girl boxers as making the room seem suddenly very, very small and very, very warm. He stood quickly and walked to the door. "I'm going out for a walk," he said, closing the door behind him with a resounding click.


	7. Dreams and Schemes

**Chapter Seven**

**Schemes and Dreams**

The walk Woody went on took him passed the burger joint they had eaten at that evening, around the corner to a small bar he had spotted earlier. A drinking establishment simply named Cue's that let you know by its brick façade and ambiance that it wasn't a tourist attraction. It was a down home, talk-it-out, drink-until-you-feel-better-or-the-old-lady-makes-you-come-home bar. It was exactly what Woody needed. A place where he could have drink or three and think about what Jordan had just told him.

And hopefully get just drunk enough that he would go straight to sleep when he returned to the hotel room and the heart-shaped bed with her curled up in it…wearing nothing but a pair of soft, cotton, girl boxers and a thin, white tank top.

On reflection, there may not be enough liquor in North Carolina to make him be able to do that.

But determined to find out, he sat himself down on a barstool and ordered his first Scotch. He downed that in two gulps and held his hand up for another. The bartender obliged.

"Didn't expect to see you in here, Detective," a voice drawled from Woody's right side.

"Mike….fancy meeting you here…" _Great….now I'll spend the rest of the evening talking about work and not figuring out how to get Jordan to trust me again…feel like she can love me without worrying that I'll hurt her…_

Mike narrowed his eyes at the note of sarcasm in Woody's greeting. Still….if he was sharing a room with someone that looked like Dr. Cavanaugh and there had been an argument, he guessed he'd have been getting better acquainted with Johnnie Walker again, too. "Yeah…well….everyman needs somewhere to go after a hard day's work," he commented, leaning on the bar next to Woody.

"That's the truth…but I figured you for one of those head-straight-home-to-the-wife-after-five guys."

Mike chuckled, rolling a toothpick from one side of his mouth to the other. "Normally…I am. I waited a while to get married and then was lucky enough to find a jewel of a lady that can put up with me. But….she's at her mother's for a couple of weeks….and the house gets too quiet without her and the kids."

"You have kids? How many?"

"Two. Both boys. What about you?"

"I'm not married…no kids….at least none anyone has ever let me know about…"

Mike chuckled again and tossed his toothpick into the ashtray on the bar. "So what about you and Dr. Cavanaugh?"

"Me and Jordan?"

"Yeah…you and Jordan. I mean, if you don't mind me saying….it's kind of apparent you both have the hots for one another…but the truck ain't pulling its load in that situation, if you know what I mean…" Mike eyed Woody with an understanding glint in his eye.

Woody took another gulp of Scotch, letting the liquid burn its way down his throat and loosen his tongue. "We….we had an argument."

"And I went through all that trouble of getting you one hotel room with that heart-shaped bed for nothing…"

Woody looked at the sheriff in surprise, but saw Mike's teasing expression answering him back. "Whose fault was it?" Mike asked.

"Mine…" Woody gave Mike the brief rundown of their history…his shooting….Jordan's declaration of love…him running her out of his hospital bed and his life…then the house blowing up and Jordan saving his life…and what she said afterwards.

Mike let out a low whistle. "So … after all that…you two can't get together?"

"She loves me….she still does….she's just afraid of getting hurt again…by me. I can't say I blame her. I haven't been the nicest person to her…I was trying to get over her when I realized I couldn't, because I love her too much…" Woody sighed.

"She's told you she still loves you…but is afraid you'll hurt her again?"

"Yeah."

"Can't say as I blame her."

Woody looked at Mike with disbelieving eyes. One of the reasons a man comes to a bar after a discussion like this with a woman is to get mutual support from his male friends….Mike wasn't playing that game.

"How is the lady supposed to feel?" Mike continued. "You shut her down and she's supposed to open back up just because you changed _your_ mind? Even if she does still really love you, she's not going to set herself up to be hurt again. Sounds too smart for that. You're going to have to prove yourself, buddy. And good luck. She sounds too intelligent just to believe any cockamamie bullshit story you can hand her." Mike pulled away from his place on the bar and started to walk off.

"What am I supposed to do, Mike?" Woody called out after him, a note of near panic in his voice.

"Well….I can tell you what I did in a situation similar to that…."

"I'm all ears…."

Mike walked back over to where Woody was and sat on the bar stool next to him. "Cindy…that's my wife…and I went through a rough patch before we got married. I had been single a while…I had traveled with State, playing football. And like a lot of jocks, I had my choice of women…but every time I came back home…here…the Outer Banks…I always went out of my way to see her. Talk to her. She was a pretty, little thing…the kind that gets into your heart and just won't leave…" Mike smiled at the memory. "I guess I knew…and she did, too… that we'd end up together at some point. But Cindy was worried that somewhere along the way, I'd find greener pastures…leave her…or ask her to leave…I had to do some serious talking and dancing to get her to realize that she was the only one for me…"

"So what'd you do?"

Mike eyed the detective. Woody seemed serious…and it was apparent that he was serious about Dr. Cavanaugh. In conspiratorial whispers, out of the earshot of bar patrons, he explained what he did to convince Cindy that she was the only one…the most exciting woman in his life and he would never want another.

"And that's what I did…" Mike concluded.

"And she went along with it?" Woody shook his head. He couldn't picture Jordan …

"Well…she kind of was taken back at first….but yeah, she went along with it…" Mike grinned from ear to ear. "Think you're man enough to handle it?"

"Oh yeah. That's not a question. But how do I set that up _here_…I don't know anyone in North Carolina but you…"

"Leave the details to me. I won't do you wrong. But once you get her in that room, it's up to you to make her want to stay there. And how you handle things when you get back to Boston will determine if she's woman enough to want to believe you…"

"Then it's a done deal. Thanks, Mike." Woody shook hands with the sheriff

"Don't mention it….it's the least I can do. And good luck."

* * *

An hour and another round of Johnnie Walker later, Woody quietly let himself back into the "Porn Fest" to find Jordan sound asleep, still on her side, tuned away from him, hugging her pillow. He smiled down at her as he silently undressed, stripping to his boxers before he joined her in the bed, careful to stay on his side, but turned towards her to watch her sleep. If all went well, tomorrow night at this time, she would believe him…he drifted off into an alcohol induced sleep…wondering if she would really be receptive…she loved him. She said as much. He just needed to convince her that she was the only one for him and he couldn't live without her….

Those thoughts ran through his mind as his eyelids shut and unconsciousness claimed him…until he heard Jordan groan in her sleep and begin to move around.

At first he thought she had forgotten where she was at…but that wasn't it. It wasn't until he heard her call out "Woody!" and sit straight up in bed that he realized she was having a bad dream.

"Hey….whoa….it's okay…here I am…." He tugged her arm to turn her towards him. "It's just a bad dream…" Even in the dim light of the room, he could see her wide eyes and knew that a thin sheen of sweat covered her.

"Woody…" her voice trailed off and she flopped back down on the bed, this time rolling to her stomach. "Oh, God…"

"What's the matter, Jo? You've obviously had a bad dream. Want to talk about it?" Hesitantly he reached over and began to rub her back. She didn't push him away.

It was the same dream that woke her nearly every night. She didn't get him out of the building...he had died…and was lost to her forever. She gasped and at the same time prayed he wouldn't stop rubbing her back…reassuring her that he was there….alive…warm…in the same bed as she was. "The house…" she began softly, the terror still evident in her voice.

"What about the house?" He had to lean over her closely to hear her whispers.

"I didn't get you out in time…" This time he heard tears.

"But you did," Woody said, and rolled her over to face him. "You did get me out in time…I'm here, alive and well." He reached out and found one of her hands and placed it on his bare chest over his beating heart to prove it to her.

She felt the shock down to her toes that promptly curled in reaction to the sensation of his bare skin. _Damn…_ she thought. _Why in God's name didn't he at least put on a t-shirt with his sleep pants?_

"Jordan? You okay?"

_It's gotta be this room….the Porn Fest…_ "Yeah…I just keep dreaming I didn't get you and Cal out in time…" her voice did catch at the memory…

"Do you have these dreams often?"

She nodded, trying to add up all the hours of sleep she had lost over the nightmare.

"I know how you feel…I do…after the shooting…I had nightmares for months." He smiled at her, then, brushing the hair from off of her forehead. "Tell you what…tonight…no more dreams." He pulled her to him, but rolled her over to her side so her back was to his chest. "This way, you know I'm here…" One arm wound it's way around her waist. "So no more nightmares…" He lay back down and cuddled her close. "This better?"

Wordlessly she nodded, her eyes wide….Woody was wearing boxers…and…._Damn the man…doesn't he know what sleep pants are?_

Her eyes didn't shut again for hours later.


	8. Love Nest

**Chapter Eight**

**Love Nest**

**Once again…here's to RobandChrisMom, Sharebear, and the rest of the Yayas.**

Jordan was thankful that the next morning, Woody got up before she did, showered, and went to get breakfast before she got up. After a night of being wrapped that tightly in his arms…feeling the obvious effects of her body against his, and vice versa, she wasn't sure awkward small talk was even on her agenda. To be honest, she wasn't sure she could string two coherent sentences together. With a sigh and a groan, she climbed into the tub, wishing she had time for a long, leisurely, bubble bath instead of a quick shower.

She needed to see if she could somehow wash off the feel of his body against hers. But she also knew that all the hot water and lufa in the world may not do that. She could still feel him…still smell him next to her. Disgusted with her run away hormones, she quickly did her hair and make up and was fully clothed when Woody reappeared with sausage biscuits and hot coffee.

And no mention of the night before.

Which she thought was odd. They had never slept together before. She assumed he would at least joke about their first escapade being in a heart-shaped bed and both of them did nothing but sleep.

Not a word.

The work day passed quickly and by three they had wrapped up everything they needed to do in North Carolina. Jordan anticipated a flight out this evening. "I guess we need to go back to the hotel and pack?" she questioned Woody.

Who just leaned back in his chair and grinned. "Why fly out tonight…we've been here an entire day and other than the burger joint, we've seen nothing…let's stay the evening, do a little sight seeing and leave tomorrow afternoon…better yet, Sunday afternoon. After all, it is Friday. No one really needs us until Monday."

"Sunday afternoon?" Woody was messing with her mind now…she anticipated a red-eye flight out at the latest.

"Yeah…Sunday afternoon. That way we can spend as much time as we want out tonight, enjoy the beach, and not have to half kill ourselves making an early morning flight." He flashed his dimples again.

"Are you sure?"

"Sure I'm sure…" Jordan looked at him dubiously. "No…I really am," he continued… "Mike has told me about several different places that sound really neat…and there's a ghost tour…and I know how you ME's get into ghost tours…" He got up and headed out the door. "Come on, Cavanaugh. Lighten up. Let's spend some time together…"

_Time together…that sounds…well…nice_, she thought as she quickly followed after him, not sure what kind of dance Woody was leading her on this time, but was willing to try. This was the most light hearted she had seen him in a long time…he was almost like the young, naïve, Wisconsin native that had showed up at the bank heist four years ago.

"What do you want to do?" she asked, once they had checked out of the sheriff's office and were heading downtown.

"Mike made a few suggestions…everything here is close together so we can walk. Do you want to go back to the hotel and change first?"

Jordan nodded and Woody hailed a taxi. Then the thought hit her. "Where has Mike been all day? Other than this morning when he brought us to the office, I haven't seen him."

"He told me he had some errands to run," Woody said, chuckling under his breath.

* * *

Jordan changed at the hotel and met Woody down stairs. He had still made no mention of last night…indeed, it seemed it had completely slipped his mind. So she went along with it. Evidently sleeping next to each other in skimpy clothing didn't qualify for comment.

She wondered somewhat irritably what would. And then the thought ringed through her mind, if she did know what would cause him to remember the night before, would she be willing to do it? She tried to push the thought from her mind…but it still whispered to her as they headed out to do some sight seeing.

"Let's see," Woody said, pulling out some brochures and trying to pick out the sights that would hold both of their interests as well as give them the most time alone. "There's the light house…some antique shops…you hungry yet?"

Jordan shook her head. "No…not yet. The light house sounds interesting…"

Woody paused and took in her outfit. Typical beach attire…short denim skirt and short-sleeved white blouse….that dipped a little lower in front than she normally wore. Her hair was pulled up loosely in a clip with small tendrils escaping around her ears and on the back of her neck. "Sure you're up to all the steps? There's no elevator to the top."

Jordan nodded and grinned. "I run six miles three times a week, Farm Boy. I'm up to anything…" Her mouth crooked up at one corner. "How about you?"

Woody thought he detected just a slight daring note in her voice. "Oh, I'm good," he said, silkily.

_Yeah, I just bet you are_…she thought, then pulled herself up short. _What the hell am I thinking…this heart-shaped bed and Magic Finger Massage room….the Porn Fest is getting to me. _She shook her head, but took his hand when he offered it. She also didn't protest when he pulled her just a bit closer than he needed to, much less think about pulling away.

They toured the light house…and visited the local shops…the ones out of the beaten tourist path. Jordan couldn't remember the last time she had laughed so much with Woody…or the last time she had seen him so relaxed….not since months before the sniper shooting….maybe even longer than that. Her breath caught once again at the blueness of his eyes…the way his dimples showed when he grinned…the way the corners of his eyes crinkled up when he really smiled.

It hit her, then. This was the real Woody. The man she fell in love with.

Her breath caught at the realization as he led her into a tavern for a late dinner and drinks. He did most of the talking over the meal, she just watched him and kept feeling the walls around her heart slip more and more until finally they were simply gone. "Hey, you okay?" he asked. "You've gotten all quiet on me…and you've barely touched your food. Is anything wrong?"

"No….no …I guess I'm just not as hungry as I thought…"

"We can get a to go box to take back to the room."

She nodded. The room. That bed. His boxers. She swallowed hard.

"Dance with me, Jordan?"

His statement startled her out of her reflection as he held out his hand. She put her hand in his and felt the strength of his fingers as they curled around hers. For a moment she wondered just how those fingers would feel on the rest of her body. _Damn, that room is really getting to me,_ she thought, inwardly frowning…until she felt him pull her the rest of the way into his arms and one hand lightly settle on her lower back. The full body contact drove out any further thoughts of his fingers…at least for a while.

The music was a slow oldie…Woody gently took her around the small dance floor, keeping her pulled close so they wouldn't bump into the other dancers. His scent, coupled with his aftershave were working a spell on her senses…she tried to snap out of it…trying to think of something sarcastic to say about the other dancers…but the words died on her lips when she looked in his eyes. So when he pulled her still closer so that her head rested on his shoulder, she didn't stop him. She merely closed her eyes and let herself be taken in by the music, the mood, and the feel of him under her cheek.

Woody had noticed the change in her as the evening had gone on. He had cursed both of their works schedules more than once when they were in Boston. The hours he worked, coupled with the hours she had to put in, made it nearly impossible for either of them to maintain a friendship, much less pursue a relationship. Then add in everything that both of them had endured over the past couple of years and it was a wonder they were even talking to each other…

It seemed to him that all it took was a little time solely dedicated to each other for both of their defenses to go down and their real feelings to bubble up to the surface.

He hoped he was right….or tonight could permanently end any chance he had with reconciling with Jordan. He glanced down at her face, her head still resting on his shoulder, her eyes closed. She seemed content…

He would try to make her even more content before the night was over. He pulled her even closer and her eyes slowly opened as the music came to a halt. "You ready to blow this joint?" he asked.

Reluctantly she pulled away, immediately missing the feel of his body next to hers. "If you are.." she agreed.

"I am…" Woody paid their bill and led her to the door, gently putting an arm around her waist as they walked back to the hotel. Surreptitiously glancing at his watch, he noted that Mike should have come and gone with what was needed…Now was the time. He tugged Jordan into a dark side street before they got back to their room.

"What are you…." She got no further as she felt the gentle touch of his fingers on her face…and then the shock of his lips against hers.

His lips were just as gentle as his fingers were…brushing against hers chastely…hesitantly, letting Jordan know that Woody was waiting on her to deepen the kiss…

Which she did….nearly without thinking. She unconsciously knew she had wanted this since last night…the fact that nearly twenty-four hours had passed did nothing to diminish that want…in fact, it had increased the desire. She opened her mouth and began to explore his hungrily.

And felt him return the favor. When she finally moaned against his lips, Woody pulled back, taking in her smudged gloss and soft lips…glazed eyes…. "I think that maybe now is a good time to head back…" he whispered. "before things get too out of hand…"

"Out of hand?" she repeated.

He grinned at her. "Yeah…out of hand here…there's no privacy." He led her to the hotel and up the stairs.

"Privacy?" She parroted back

"Privacy. Jordan, are you okay?" She seemed to be having a hard time understanding where this conversation was going.

"Fine…we need privacy?" She meant it as a question. He took it as a statement.

"Yeah…we do…For what I want to do to you…Us…privacy is a vital issue." He slowly directed her down the hall to their room.

"Really….And what exactly are you going to do to me?" she asked, pausing to look up in his eyes…which were shining with affection….and mischief….

"Make love to you…I thought you knew that's where this was heading…especially after last night and this evening," he whispered in her ear.

She had to admit. She hoped it would. She just wasn't sure…. "Oh," she began, and then felt as though all the air had been sucked out of her lungs when Woody swung the door to their room open.

The heart-shaped bed was still there….only this time it was draped in some kind of gauzy material…and the room was washed in the light of a dozen or more candles. And in the dim light of the candle glow, Jordan recognized a bowl of fresh strawberries and whipped cream beside the bed…and a stack of quarters by the Magic Fingers Massage slot.

"My God. I have been dropped into the middle of a porn fest," she joked as she turned to look at Woody.

"Not porn fest…love nest," he corrected as he put the chain on the door and flipped over the 'Do Not Disturb' sign. "Come here, Jordan."


	9. Strawberries and Whipped Cream

**Chapter Nine**

**Strawberries and Whipped Cream**

Still not being able to breathe correctly and feeling like her heart was going to beat out of her chest, she slowly walked over to Woody and stood in front of him. He reached out and gently took her hands. "I feel like I not only owe you an apology for being such an ass in my hospital room…an apology I know can't even begin to take away even a tiniest bit of the hurt I caused you…I also owe you my life."

Jordan gave him a surprised look.

"You said last night…about your dream…that you dreamt you didn't get Cal and me out of the house in time."

"Oh. That. I never meant for you to find out…"

"And then there's what you said when I was in the hospital with the concussion…"

Jordan felt her cheeks flush a little. "You heard that?" she asked faintly. The last time they had such a discussion it ended disastrously. Somehow the look in Woody's eyes told her that wouldn't happen this time.

"I did. I heard that …and you said you loved me, you missed me, and your heart was still mine…"

She nodded. "It is…I meant what I told you in your hospital room…and last night."

Woody lifted her hand and put it on his chest…over his heart. "And my heart is yours. I'll never hurt you again. Not intentionally. You're everything I want…and need…I don't want anyone else…not ever. I can't imagine my life without you…I don't want to. I only want you, Jordan. Just you. Just forever."

Jordan looked up in his eyes…eyes that had been laughing earlier…but now were seriously, gazing intently at hers…wanting her to believe him…making her believe him. "Ah…Woody…" her voice caught. "Do you know how much that means to me?"

Woody smiled at her. "I know how much you mean to me…" He lowered his lips and pulled her to him at the same time.

Jordan met him half way, arching up to reach his lips. She kissed him hungrily again…her arms coming up around his shoulders, her fingers tangling in his hair. His arms were around her waist, fingering the band of her skirt. His lips trailed from her mouth to her ear. "Jordan?" he whispered, a world of meaning in that one word.

She nodded.

He deftly unbuttoned her skirt and slid the zipper down, pushing it to the floor and helping her step out of it and her sandals at the same time.

His shirt was next, as she slowed things down…unfastening each button and kissing his chest in between each space…slowly revealing to her the six pack of abs he had so ruthlessly teased her about at times…and discovered she really could do her laundry on them if she so wanted.

A tantalizing thought….Woody in a tub of bubbles…she shook the image from her mind and concentrated on the here and now. The then could come later.

She reached for his pants the same time he started to remove her top. She sighed as he slipped her blouse from her shoulders and it joined her skirt and sandals.

And suddenly his mouth was everywhere….her lips, her neck and shoulders…then her lips again as their mouths met and dueled, her lips softening under his as well as her body.

She heard Woody moan in response…then lower her on that heart-shaped bed amid all the gauze and the candles, propping her up on the pillows resting against the headboard, pushing his pants and boxers down, and sitting beside her. "You're beautiful, you know that?" he whispered.

Jordan felt a flush return to her cheeks. "Woody…"

"You are…" he kissed her softly. "Very, very beautiful." He reached out and snagged a strawberry from the bowl beside the bed and dipped it in the whipped cream. "You didn't have dessert at the tavern…" He popped the berry in this mouth. "Tell me you aren't allergic…please…"

She shook her head as her eyes began to gleam of with the knowledge of where Woody was taking this. She guessed her naïve farm boy may have always been a figment of her imagination.

"Good….so….are you hungry?"

"A little…"

"You like strawberries?"

"Love them…"

"Whipped cream?"

"Of course…"

Woody snagged another strawberry and dipped the smaller, rounded end in the whipped cream. "You know we're going to have to work off the calories later…"

"Oh, I'm counting on it, Detective."

Woody chuckled and put the larger end of the strawberry between his lips and lowered it to her mouth…..she bit the end off. With one finger Woody wiped the whipped cream off her mouth and swallowed his end of the strawberry. "Good?" he asked.

"Wonderful…"

"Another?"

Jordan nodded, feeling fissures of excitement run up her spine. Woody placed another strawberry with whipped cream in his mouth…but as she bit her end off, some of the cream landed on her chest. "Interesting…" Woody said, after swallowing his end of the strawberry. He bent his head and licked the whipped cream off the hollow between her breasts. Jordan felt her body involuntarily arch towards him.

"Woody…" she breathed softly…and that seemed to push him over the edge. His lips found hers again…coaxing…gentle…as he eased her further back on the bed, his hands tracing her curves, removing her bra, teasing her nipples with his tongue. Jordan sighed and arched against him again, giving him better access to where he wanted to go.

"Ah….sweetheart," he murmured. He eased back and looked her in the eyes…the question hanging between them. A slight nod from her was all it took for him to remove her briefs and settle between her legs…one hand lightly tracing her leg from her knee to her thigh, then around to her bottom. Another slight arch from her was all he needed to urge him on, filling her completely…faltering only to find a rhythm they were both comfortable with.

To Jordan's surprise, her climax came quickly…as if the years between them had been foreplay and when their bodies finally got down to business, hers reacted to his like a magnet. She sucked in a breath…and the next time …minutes later … Woody was with her, rolling her over in his arms.

"Jesus.." Jordan whispered…. "that was…."

"Great…" Woody finished, murmuring the word in her hair.

"Intense was the word I was looking for.."

"You're welcome…" came back in a teasing voice. Then on a more serious note, he tilted her head back to look in her eyes. "Are you okay?"

"Never better…although I think I will need to go shopping when I get home…"

"Lingerie?"

"Furniture. These heart-shaped beds could catch on quick…"

She felt Woody chuckle. "And I've gained a new appreciation for strawberries," he replied.

"Too bad they're only in season once a year…"

"Which brings me to my next point….better enjoy them while we have them…."

* * *

"Where's Jordan?" Woody asked Nigel a few days after he and the ME had returned to Boston and their routines. History was repeating itself…their work hours kept encroaching too much on their personal life…which continued to get very personal…much to his delight.

"Field call. Macy sent her out with Santana"

Woody groaned. Both of those women together meant combustible estrogen….he wasn't sure which one was worse.

"I feel your pain," Nigel replied. "Last time they had a case together…."

"Don't remind me. Think Jordan will be back soon?"

"Should be. She's been gone a couple of hours. Should I tell her you dropped by?"

"No…no…I'll just leave a note on her desk…"

"Sure thing, Woody. Take care." And with that Nigel whisked into trace.

Looking around to see if anyone was watching, Woody slowly opened the door to Jordan's office and left a basket on her desk.

When she got back in an hour later, Lily stopped her. "Woody was by here earlier looking for you."

"He was?…What did he want?"

"He didn't say…he just left a basket of strawberries on your desk. Said you'd understand…"


End file.
